


cards on the table we're both showing hearts

by philindas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Philinda Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Possible new Hydra intel sends Phil and Melinda back into a gambling ring they'd infiltrated in the 90s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cards on the table we're both showing hearts

**Author's Note:**

> For day six of philinda undercover: the poker mission! Title from All of Me by John Legend.

“I thought you hated undercover,” Daisy said where she sat on Melinda’s bathroom counter, swinging her legs while she watched the older woman comb through her closet, throwing the occasional item of clothing into the bag at her feet.

“I do,” she answers, carefully folding a pair of dark jeans and placing them in the bag.

“Then why this mission? I’m sure Bobbi and Hunter could have gone,” Daisy continues, and Melinda shakes her head, sighing.

“Coulson and I have an established cover with this gambling ring,” she answers, opening a drawer and pulling out a toiletries bag. “We went under for three months back in the 90s, when we were first partners. It’s easy to construct a story about getting out of the game to raise a family to explain our disappearance and slip in without too many questions like new players would.”

“Is that why Coulson had me manipulate those photos?” Daisy asked, and Melinda nodded, running a hand through her hair tiredly. “Well at least you just have to get in, get info on their ties to the new Hydra cell, and get out. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

“You’ve never spent time with the Russian mafia, have you?” Melinda snorted, grabbing a pair of heeled boots from her closet and putting them in the bag as well, along with a pair of folding knives and another handgun. “I’m going to spend the whole weekend having my ass grabbed and vodka shoved in my face.”

“I mean, Coulson does seem like an ass man-”

“Alright, enough Daisy. Go see if Coulson needs you to do any more work on our covers,” Melinda interrupts the younger girl, rolling her eyes as Daisy grins at her, jumping off the counter. When she’s alone Melinda turns to face the mirror again, sighing. _How_ did Phil keep dragging her into these things?

_

“Do my eyes deceive me or have you two finally returned from the dead?” both Phil and Melinda plaster on fake smiles at the greeting as they stepped into the club. Dirty money funded it, countless high-end poker games going on in its basement.

“Couldn’t stay gone forever,” Phil answers, accepting the welcome shot from the club owner and mafia leader, Sergei Mikhailov. “Kid’s in college, figured it was time to get back in the game.”

Sergei eyes them up and down; they’re dressed the part and their cover is solid, thanks to Daisy’s hacking, but Melinda still feels the involuntary shiver at the scrutiny of his gaze. “You had a child?”

“I got pregnant, we got out,” Melinda supplies with a shrug; she pulls out her burner phone, scrolling to the picture Daisy had manipulated the background on of the three of them- the perfect image of a happy family. “It was easy to slip out with that four million we won that last game, and we didn’t want her around this. It’s time to come back though. If you’ll have us.”

The mafia boss scans them over one more time before he pulls them both into a hug, tugging them towards the bar, where a group of half-familiar faces waited. “Look who has returned home!”

The night is a blur of shots, reminiscing, and Phil’s hand planted firmly on her thigh, slipping increasingly higher the more shots he fumbles down. They need to keep their cover, so they manage to throw away half of them, but by the time Sergei invites them to tomorrow’s big game (the game they know one of the new heads of Hydra would be sitting in on), they’re somewhere between tipsy and drunk.

The hotel they’ve gotten a room in is a few blocks from the club, and it’s cold enough that Melinda finds herself burrowing into the warmth Phil was radiating. Saint Petersburg was beautiful at night; lit up and gleaming, the vodka took away just enough of her inhabitation to enjoy the night with a smile free of her usual barriers.

“You’re beautiful,” she looks up at Phil’s voice; just as the alcohol has lowered her emotional walls, it’s lowered Phil’s verbal ones, and she shivers at the darkness in his gaze.

“You’re drunk,” she replies quietly as they slip into the lobby, the place bare as they took the elevator to their room.

“I’m tired of boundaries,” he admits, and Melinda looks at him, caught off guard but at the same time, barely surprised. Of course it would take another undercover op for Phil to gather the courage to take the step they’d both been skirting for months, since Daisy had returned and they’d been able to bring Bobbi and Hunter back to the organization.

“You have the worst timing,” she tells him as she pulls him towards their room; his mouth catches hers as she unlocks their door, and she sinks into it like she would a warmth bath, a soft sigh leaving her.

“Better late than never,” he replies, that damned amused twinkle in his eye, and she shakes her head fondly, setting the bolt on the door and pulling him with her to the bed.

_

 

“This thong is halfway up my ass,” Melinda grumbles under her breath, and Phil has to stifle a laugh as they walk back to the club. It’s nearly nightfall, and they’d spent the day playing catch up with the boys from the club. It had been a thinly veiled interrogation- thankfully they’d gone over their shared answers beforehand, so it had been easy to slip back into the married couple they’d created decades ago.

“Dedicated to the cause, are you?” he asked, amused, and she shoots him a glare. “Don’t worry, I’ll take it off later.”

Melinda groans goodnaturedly at that, fingers twining with his as they step in the doorway; the bouncer nods to them as he lifts the rope, and they slip into the noisy club. They each grab a drink- whiskey for Melinda, scotch for Phil- before they head towards the back of the club to where there was a door, flanked by two beefy dudes that Melinda knew she could take down in about ten seconds flat.

They’re let in without a problem, and stepping into the backroom is like stepping into another world. The poker table dominated the center, and nearly all the chairs were filled with various familiar faces and a handful they only knew from Hydra intel. Melinda pulls Phil into a kiss that’s probably deeper than it needs to be, but it does the job of averting eyes from them as Phil sets off the button cam, capturing images of their opponents to send to Daisy.

“Go get ‘em baby,” she murmurs, patting his chest as she sends him to one of the free chairs at the table, making her way to the spouse section. Her heart hurts a little at the selection of women before her; most of them can barely be legal, as per most mafia wives, but every time she looks at them all she can see is Daisy and Jemma and Bobbi and Elena.

She stifles her anger, though, and chats with them over their drinks; one of them women starts talking about her infant son, asking Melinda about raising a child in an environment like this. Melinda mostly sidesteps the question, but pulls a few answers that could give them an in to the new Hydra cell from her when the woman shows her a picture of her child.

Their attention shifts to the game; six of the nine players are out, grumbling angrily at the bar- Phil, Sergeri, and a man Melinda was fairly certain was named Claude were the only remaining. She knew Phil would forfeit the win he undoubtedly had- they couldn’t afford that with their cover. She met his gaze, ruffling her fingers at him in a way that was part cover, part just pure affection, and he winked in return, spiking heat through her stomach.

Undercover wasn’t the worst thing in the world, she supposed.


End file.
